A Holiday Hug
by jilyjackson
Summary: For the first time in memory, Lily Evans isn't looking forward to summer holidays. The weight of family drama is pushing down on her shoulders, and it seems that the only person who can help is, unexpectedly, a certain James Potter. One-shot; set after sixth year.


**A/N: This is just a short Jily one-shot. I hope that you all enjoy it!**

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A Holiday Hug

**In all of my six years at Hogwarts, I had never truly dreaded going home for the holidays.**

I had experienced my moments of doubt, of course. There had been that moment in first-year, where I was anxious to show my parents that I was not, as they had previously assumed, going to a charlatan school, but a real wizarding school. There was the moment right before the Hogwarts Express left every year, when I tossed one glance back at the spiraling towers and felt a lump rise in my throat. After all, I had spent the better part of nine months in a castle, and Cokesworth wasn't exactly what one looked forward to after all of that magic. Regardless, I had never actually dreaded going home. All I had ever experienced was simply a little bit of doubt.

Now, though, as I stood at the Hogwarts Express train station, my suitcase weighted in my hands, gazing back at the castle, I felt tears prick my eyes. I didn't want to go back home. Nine months, and I didn't miss my family enough to want to at least hug my mum. There was just too much drama going on in my life to really appreciate my little home and quirky mum.

A lump in my throat rose as I remembered the previous Christmas. It had been the first winter holiday without my dad around, and it seemed as if every waking second had been spent noticing his absence. There hadn't been the smell of his traditional cigar smoke- the one that he always smoked at Christmastime, though my mum used to shout at him that smoking killed. My father was just funny like that. He called them 'special occasion cigars', and smoked one at every holiday.

My father had died in a car accident in October of the previous year. I had taken a weekend off to go and tend to my family, with the permission of McGonagall. The mere sight of my father's old pair of ratty trainers by the door had been enough to push me to tears. That weekend had been the most draining experience that I had ever had to go through in my entire life. When I had gotten back to Hogwarts, my friends had done my best to cheer me up. They had consoled me, hugged me, and done everything that a mate should.

There was one encounter in particular that I remembered. James Potter, of all people, had somehow found out about my dad. I wasn't sure how long he had known, or who told him, or whether or not the rumor mill was having a field day with my personal life. I had been too zombie-like in those days to really register much of anything. The one thing that I did realize was a hand, thrust at me right in the middle of the corridor, with a box of Sugar Quills in the palm of the hand. Sugar Quills: my favourite.

I had looked up, a questioning look on my face, and had met the hazel eyes of an extremely disheveled boy: the one and only James Potter. My lips had been about to quirk downwards in my customary scowl that I adorned whenever Potter was concerned, but I saw the look on Potter's face: a look of apology. My features had softened a bit, and he had put up a hand.

"Er- listen," he had said quickly. "Before you say anything." I had clamped my mouth shut, looking at him, and though Potter seemed a bit surprised by my submission, he continued on. "I…" He took a deep breath. "I just want to say that I'm sorry. Really. I'm really, _really _sorry, Lily."

It had been in that moment that I realised: he knew. He knew that my dad had died on October 10, 1976. Potter _knew. _That wasn't what was most surprising about the situation, however. What was most surprising was that I wasn't angry, or upset. I was- _Merlin_- thankful. I was so thankful. The twit had gone and gotten me a box of my favourite candy in the entire world, and that little act had made me want to cry harder than I had since my father had died.

A cry lodged in my throat, and I looked up at him. "Thank you," I said. I brushed furiously at my eyes, hoping that the tears didn't show as obviously as I thought that they would. "Really, Potter. Thank you."

This clearly hadn't been what he had been expecting. He stared at me for a moment, his mouth hanging open. Then he cleared it, a little bit of a flush rising to his cheeks. "Er. You're welcome, I s'ppose. It was nothing, though." Potter flashed me a smile, and I was struck, in that moment, by how _different _he was. A year ago, he would have said some arrogant toerag comment, and now… well, now he was giving me a box of my favourite candies.

That had been the only good memory of the whole of the month of October after the tenth. Winter holidays had been a small, sad affair, made worse by my sister's new boyfriend, Vernon. The entire time, I had been walking on tiptoes, subdued by my sister's not-so-subtle threats to keep my magical oddities to a minimum. That entire vacation, the number of words that I spoke was under one hundred.

Now, as I stood at the train station, looking up at the castle, I wished that I could stay there for the summer. I didn't want to have to deal with my sister, who was now engaged to I've-A-Stick-Up-My-Arse Vernon Dudley, or my mother, who, last time I saw her, was drinking herself under the table. I had three months of that unbearableness that I had to get through, and I wanted nothing more than to stay at school for the summer.

"Oy, Evans!" I looked away from the castle, being startled out of my reverie, and saw Potter weaving his way around the crowd. Distantly, I saw Severus Snape's eyes narrow. _Great, _I thought, distracted for a moment. _Something else to dread whilst in Cokesworth: the awkwardness of Severus Snape, and his pleas to 'remain friends'. _

I sighed, my hand tightening on my suitcase. "What do you want?" I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I had intended them to. It was one of my downfalls: whenever I got stressed, I tended to take it out on other people.

Potter's smile faded only for an instant at my remark. I half-expected him to say something along the lines of 'why, to shag you, of course!' though I knew that the remark belonged to fifteen year-old Potter, not seventeen year-old Potter. "Just to say goodbye, o'course. I mean, we won't be seeing each other for- what? Three months?"

I groaned. "Not seeing you for three months is the only good thing coming from summer hols, Potter," I told him, crossing my arms and glaring at him. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes ever-so-slightly.

"Not looking forward to holidays?" he asked, and though the question was simple enough, I sensed the weighted meaning behind the question. I heaved a sigh, looking away from his inquisitive face.

"Not really," I said evasively. "You know. Just family. And, you know. Stuff." _And, you know, stuff. Wow. Great job, Lily. Way to show him your eloquent word structure. Let's really impress him next time, yeah? Say something along the lines of 'Stuff is great. And good. And also great.'_

Merlin.

Potter's face seemed to clear a little bit. "Oh," he said. Then, after a pause, "You want to talk about it?"

The word 'no' was right on the tip of my tongue. I had it prepared, all ready to say, but then I reconsidered. Since Potter had given me the Sugar Quills, I had lost a little bit of the frostiness I tended to have toward him. It was still there, of course, but I no longer saw him as the arrogant toerag I used to see him as. Now, I saw him as a little bearable, and, on the rare occasion, thoughtful. And for once, I wondered if I could take him up on the offer of talking about some of my issues. Merlin knew I had more than a few.

So instead of my customary 'no' that I had prepared on my lips, I found myself saying "Yes" instead. I didn't really know why I did it; there had just been the instinctive part of me that went ahead without my brain and heart's permission.

Potter looked utterly confused, but he did his best to hide it- which wasn't to say that he succeeded, of course. "Oh. Um. Okay," he said, though he looked bewildered. He ran a hand through his hair, looking distressed. "I didn't expect you to say-"

"Yes, but I did," I finished for him. I ran a hand through my own hair. I wasn't even sure how to talk to Potter. The boy probably hadn't actually had a soul-searching conversation in his life, for Merlin's sake. All he and his friends did was make endless piles of paperwork for prefects (a.k.a.: me). Before I had time to really think about it, however, the words came pouring out of me.

"The thing is," I said, "my sister's got this new boyfriend. Vernon. Well, he's not really new, actually. He's been around since November, after…" I couldn't bring myself to say it. Skirting around the issue, I said, "You know. After all that." My eyes watered. "Petunia- that's my sister's name- she met him when she was out with a friend at a restaurant on a blind double-date. Vernon's just awful, too. He's one of those terribly boring types, not to mention that he looks like an obese whale, all puffed up. And I wouldn't say that, except for he's _mean. _Like, really mean." I found myself saying things that I hadn't even contemplated in detail, the words spilling out of me like a broken dam. "The thing is, Petunia hates me. Really. She's a Muggle, and she hates magic. Petunia doesn't like change. Not even remotely. When I found out that I was a witch, she very nearly had a cardiac arrest. That was kind of the end of us as sisters. And I tried, too, for a while- right up until the end of fifth year, actually, when there was all…" I thought back to the Defense O. , and decided to skirt around that business as well. "That," I finished lamely. "So Petunia's been yapping in his ear about how weird I am, and how much she hates me, and so now Vernon hates me too. And now I think that they're engaged, and getting married soon, but it's painful. Really painful. I mean, my dad won't even be able to walk her down the…" I seemed to realise what I was saying too late. I stopped abruptly, though a sob hitched in the back of my throat.

Potter stared at me. Finally, quietly, he said, "Wow. That… that was rather a lot to take in." He scratched his head. "I'm beginning to almost regret telling you I'd listen. I'm really not the best person for these kinds of things. I mean, even Pad- I mean, Sirius- says that I'm shit at these sorts of things."

"I don't know. You let me yell at you. That took guts." Through my watering eyes, I looked up at him. He was at least half of a foot taller than me, despite the fact that I was older than him. Potter's hazel eyes looked down on me.

Suddenly, when I wasn't expecting it, he leaned down and hugged me. I froze for a moment, unsure of what to think. Potter _hugged _me. He _hugged _me. And I hated hugs, as well. I was one of those people who liked their personal space. Even my mates- Marlene, Emmeline, Mary, and Alice- didn't hug me. Yet, for some reason, I found Potter surprisingly comforting. He smelled like cinnamon, a scent that brought me back to my grandmum, who used to make me cinnamon tea when I was sick.

Instead of pulling away, I relaxed gradually, hugging him fiercely. I crushed my face against his shirt, ignoring his little start of surprise as I didn't instantly pull back and slap him across the face. He rubbed my back, and when I did pull back, our faces were only about an inch apart. Potter's breath was quick, and I could practically hear the thrumming of my heart. I hadn't the foggiest idea why I was hugging Potter in a dark public display of affection, but teenage witch hormones set aside and everything… it felt nice.

There was a whistle, and I pulled back completely, seeing the train's headlights through the misty fog on the train tracks. I smiled up at Potter, and he smiled back, a foolish, lopsided smile that made something stir in me. Biting my lip, I said, "Thank you. For, you know. Listening and all that. You're not really a shit listener, whatever Black says."

Potter grinned. "Er… you're welcome, I s'ppose." He gazed at me intently. "The, er, hugging. I'm sorry about that. It's just something my mum did whenever I was feeling upset as a kid. It worked wonders, and you had some things going through your head, so I figured…" His cheeks flushed.

In response, I threw my arms around him again. "Thank you," I said to his ear. When I withdrew for a second time, it was my turn to have the flushed cheeks. I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. Students were beginning to board the train, and I bit my lip, considering something. "Look," I said quickly, "I know you Marauders probably have your train ride traditions, and all that, but if you were willing… well, do you… want to sit with me? Just on the way back?"

It took a moment, but slowly, a dazzling smile spread across Potter's face. "Traditions, smaditions," he said, grinning wildly. "I think Pads, Moony, and Wormy'll manage without me. It's just a train ride."

"Yeah. It's just a train ride." I gazed up at him, a smile on my face. "Thank you, James." His name was out of my mouth before I could stop it, an unexpected admission that I wasn't entirely sure of. Judging by the shock on his face, I was fairly certain that James was fairly bewildered as well.

"Welcome, Lily," he said, his voice surprisingly low.

As we walked towards the train, I was struck by how much I was going to miss Hogwarts. I would pine for the moving staircases, talking portraits, and cranky teachers for all of the three months that followed. Yet, as I looked up into James's face, I reckoned that all of that wouldn't be what I missed most of all about Hogwarts.

Sometimes life was unexpected. Sometimes it threw you curveballs. But as James and I walked back to the train, just inches apart from each other, no one but me was more surprised. We weren't lovers, or anything too dramatic. Just acquaintances, at this point, despite me spilling half my life story to him. Who knew, though? Maybe- just maybe- life would send us another curveball.

We probably wouldn't ever be boyfriend and girlfriend. I just wasn't even ready to trust him. Mates, though… well, that was a good place to start.

Later, as I stepped down from the train and saw my mother's grim face, I figured that there was one thing that was going to get me through the next three months. It was a hug. A nice, warm, summer Holiday Hug.

One that smelled of cinnamon.

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**A/N: I hoped that you all enjoyed it! Please review! Let me know what you thought!**


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